


Business Before Pleasure

by chibi_nightowl



Category: Batman (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anti-heros in the Making, Background Character Death, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Crime Boss Jason, Dubious Morality, Hitman Tim, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Inappropriate Humor, M/M, Partners in Crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:54:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21938566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl
Summary: “Roses are red, violets are blue. How would you like it if I came home with you?”“Really? That’s like the oldest one in the book.”“Yeah, that one was lame. Okay, I saved the best for last.” Jason cleared his throat. “If I was a Jedi, would you be my Force?”“Now you’re speaking my language,” Tim all but purred.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Comments: 43
Kudos: 655





	Business Before Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zappedbysnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zappedbysnow/gifts).



> Merry Christmas to my wonderful friend, zappedbysnow! This fic was a bitch to tag, just thought you should know that. :P
> 
> _I want an AU where Tim’s an assassin and Jason’s a low-key crime boss of immense reach and influence who keeps hiring him just because it’s the only way he’ll see Tim. The death toll’s getting high, but Tim’s getting paid so he’s not complaining. Much. Also, he gets to make snarky comebacks at the boss who seems to love practicing cheesy one-liners on him._

Jason Todd stood before a large window, gazing down into the casino below. It wasn’t big – this was Gotham, not Las Vegas – but it was  _ his. _ Slot machines lined one side of the room while card tables graced the other, smoke from cigarettes and cigars creating a soft haze that the ceiling fans and air conditioner couldn’t quite contain. This place and a night club a few blocks over were under his management – quite the feat considering his age.

But Ozzie had always liked Ma Gunn, knew that she didn’t raise dummies, and took him under his so-called wing. Working for the Penguin was a damn sight better than any of the other crazies who ran wild in this city. The old geezer was power hungry, there was no doubt about that, but he knew the importance of appearances. In this town, who you had in your pocket made all the difference in the world. It was a lesson anyone savvy enough to climb through the Penguin’s ranks learned fast and one that Jason learned well.

Up and coming crime boss was not necessarily a position he’d have dreamed for himself when Batman dropped him off with Ma Gunn that fateful night more than a decade ago, but it worked for him. Standing right here in a nice suit with a Rolex on his wrist was as good as it got.

Glancing at his watch, Jason made his way back to the large desk that sat neatly centered along the wall-length window. The room was quiet, soundproofing a must given the loud nature of the slot machines. Card games were more his speed, not that he ever gambled his own money at those rigged tables. Let Gotham’s rich and so-called genteel think they stood a chance against the house.

As good as business was here, his other club was the focus of his attention tonight. It was a hell of a lot less classy than this one, catering to partiers in search of a good time, a quick fix, and an easy lay. Unfortunately, it was about to find itself in need of a new bouncer. Jason’s eyes darkened as he reread the latest report.

That fucker Shane had been caught with his pants down  _ again _ , but this time, he’d gone too far.

A knock at the office door had him looking up.

Mike opened the door, poking his head in. “Hey boss. Your guy is here.”

Finally. “Send him in.”

None of his people knew Tim’s name and he intended to keep it that way. Tim was his special commodity, his ace in the hole for when he needed to make someone disappear – permanently.

It happened more often than he cared to admit, but Jason was self-aware enough to know he called more hits than was necessarily needed because he genuinely liked the man. There was something about Tim that intrigued him, drew him in like a moth to the flame. He was playing with fire when it came to the unassuming hitman, but he’d been dancing in the flames all his life, so what else was new?

Tim slipped through the open door and strode across the floor as though he owned the joint. In his designer slacks and sport coat, not to mention the sunglasses he was never without, he looked the part.

As always, Jason’s stomach did a little flip-flop at the sight of the younger man, drinking in the smooth glide of his stride and the way those pants revealed the lean muscle of those legs. Legs that he would not mind spending time between in the slightest.

This was probably why their conversations always started off the way they did.

Jason leaned back in his chair, making sure Tim could see his hands as well as his appreciative stare. “If you were a laser, you’d be set on stunning.”

Tim didn’t even grace him with a shake of his head as he took a seat on the other side of the desk. “You have work for me?” he asked in a tone of voice that belonged to Gotham’s upper crust.

Damn. Must be one of  _ those _ nights. It happened occasionally, where Tim cut right to the chase rather than indulged him by even acknowledging his lame pick-up lines.

“Yeah, I do, sweetheart.” Jason scowled as he handed over the report he’d been reading. “I normally don’t think twice about this shit if both parties consent, but apparently this has been happenin’ for a while and I’m just now findin’ out about it.”

Kids passed fake IDs in his club all the time. He got it, rebellious phase, a need to escape from the pressures of high school and mommy and daddy or whatever social media was saying they should be even though they’ll never measure up. But he had firm rules that if anyone clearly looked younger than sixteen, they were to be shown the door, no ifs, ands, or buts.

“Damn,” Tim breathed, setting the paper down. “Fourteen?”

“Yeah.”

“I highly doubt that’s the kind of party she was hoping for.”

“No shit. This is the fifth time Shane confiscated an ID, then told a kid to meet him around the corner to  _ negotiate _ an arrangement. Boys, girls, doesn’t matter. If they have a sweet mouth, he wants in on it.”

Tim scowled. “More like  _ in _ it.”

“You’re not helping.” Jason leaned forward, pressing his hands firmly into his desk. “I don’t let shit like this happen, Tim. Not in my clubs. This isn’t somethin’ I can let off with a warnin’ either.”

“You could always go to the cops –”

“And let them shut me down for underage drinking? Fuck no. You and I both know these kids aren’t gonna stop, they’ll just go somewhere else where the manager gives even less fucks than me.”

It was hard to tell what was going on behind Tim’s eyes, concealed as they were, but Jason could tell the wheels were turning. That he was being weighed against some unknown set of scales. This happened every single time he called Tim in.

A hitman with his own moral code. What a novelty. Then again, the same could be said for him. A crime boss who actually gave a few fucks about what he did.

“Fine,” Tim finally agreed. “Accidental, I presume?”

“Not this time,” Jason stated, voice level as he tried to keep his anger under control. “String him up by the fuckin’ balls and put one right between the eyes. I don’t care where as long as it’s not anywhere near my businesses. Got it?”

Tim’s thin lips tightened into a sharp smile. “Got it. It’s been awhile since I’ve had a chance to play.”

“Well, if you ever wanna let off some steam, you know where to find me.” Jason grinned rakishly, making sure the other man felt his appreciative gaze linger on his well-defined form.

“Business before pleasure,” Tim replied as he often did in response to Jason’s attempts at flirting and stood. “Half now, half later?”

“Half pleasure?” Jason teased. “I don’t see how, unless you like wanderin’ around with a case of blue balls.”

This garnered him another smile, so fleeting that Jason would have sworn on a bottle of Jack Daniels it didn’t happen.

“That’s what hands are for.” Tim lowered his sunglasses enough to wink before raising them again. “Gimme a week.”

With that parting shot, he left the office, leaving Jason feeling like he’d just been sucker punched in the gut by a pair of icy blue eyes.

Damn.

* * *

As promised, Tim delivered within a week and Jason made the corresponding transfer of funds to some offshore account in the Cayman Islands. He’d done a nice job too, having taken him literally and hung Shane by his balls in the kitchen of his shitty apartment with a thick dildo shoved down his throat. Jason especially liked that little touch.

The police didn’t know what to make of it, other than that it was a revenge crime of some sort. Their investigation went nowhere when they did their routine interviews, everyone on staff at the nightclub recognizing the warning for what it was and not caring enough to risk their own necks for the deceased.

Jason didn’t even mind sitting down for his own interview. Was it a risk? Hell yeah. Worth it in his book though. So was the lecture from Ozzie when word got back to him.

“You just watch yourself, Todd. You’re not as clever as you think you are,” the Penguin lectured, comfortable behind his desk as Jason stood before him, hands clasped firmly behind him.

“You’ve been sayin’ that for five years,” Jason countered, secure in the knowledge that his work managing two of Ozzie’s clubs and keeping them well in the black made him a valuable asset to the crime lord.

Cobblepot narrowed his eyes. “Watch your mouth, kid. You still have a lot left to learn before you’re ready to go toe-to-toe with the big boys.”

Jason had no plans to do so. Any higher up the food chain and he’d have to deal with Bats on the regular. Screw that.

Still, he hadn’t gotten as far as he had by being stupid. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cobblepot. I’ll screen the staff better to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

A lazy hand waved him off. “You can’t stop people from putting their dicks where they don’t belong. I only wish I knew who did Shane in because I’d like to shake his hand and offer them a job. That was a nice piece of work.”

Jason made a mental note to pass the compliment along to Tim. It was nice to be appreciated for a job well done.

* * *

A few weeks later, Jason found himself in another situation with a problem that required Tim’s special touch.

He stared out over the nightclub floor, high above the pulsing music and strobing lights. Even with the soundproofing, he could still feel the bassline throbbing in his bones. As much as he preferred working out of the casino, he was needed here: a visible reminder that he was watching.

His fingers twitched, itching for a cigarette that he no longer allowed himself to have. The craving wasn’t horrible, just annoying. Instead, he headed over to the sideboard where a bottle of whiskey and some ice were waiting for him.

It was unlike him to be indecisive. Shane the fuckhole of a bouncer was one thing, but Caesar, one of his best drug dealers, was pushing buttons left and right. The man was ambitious, Jason would grant him that, and clearly had his eyes on a leadership position within his organization.

Possibly even his.

Again, he could respect that. It was how he climbed the ranks. A few well-timed deals here to make himself look good, the occasional murder there when things didn’t go his way. It was just business.

Jason returned to the window with his ice-filled tumbler, sipping at the dark amber liquid that burned down the back of his throat, and stared out at everything and nothing.

There was a knock at the office door and Mike poked his head in. “Hey, boss. Sunglasses guy is here for ya.”

“Send him in.” Jason sighed and turned in time to catch Tim make his way across the office. Watching him walk was the highlight of his month, seriously. One day, he’d get between those thighs. It would happen. Power of positive thinking and all that shit.

Tim took a seat, much more relaxed than last time, crossing a leg over one knee as he made himself comfortable. Fuck, he was gorgeous. Probably knew it too.

“You’re so hot that you make the sun jealous,” Jason blurted out.

Damn, why did he always do this? It was like the filter between his brain and his mouth just vanished whenever Tim was around. Way to go, Todd, no getting laid  _ again _ for you this time.

“I think I’d rather be compared to the moon,” Tim replied without even batting an eye. “Less chance for a sunburn.”

Oh, someone was in a playful mood tonight. Mood lifting, Jason leaned against his desk and grinned. “Is there an airport nearby, or is that my heart taking off?”

“I swear, you’re as bad as my brother.” Tim smirked, shaking his head slightly. “You guys must get your lines from the same place.”

Jason winked. “Aw, and here I was hopin’ I was original.”

“Not a chance in hell.”

“Roses are red, violets are blue. How would you like it if I came home with you?”

“Really? That’s like the oldest one in the book.”

“Yeah, that one was lame. Okay, I saved the best for last.” Jason cleared his throat. “If I was a Jedi, would you be my Force?”

Tim’s reaction wasn’t what he expected. It was better. “Now you’re speaking my language,” he all but purred.

Jason’s heart swelled. Or maybe that was Lil’ Jay, it was hard to tell. “Are you one of those  _ speak nerdy to me _ kind of guys? Cuz I can totally do that.”

“I somehow doubt you have  _ Star Trek _ pickup lines ready to go.”

“No, but now that I’m on the right track…” Jason trailed off, grinning.

Maybe he had a chance after all. Tim hadn’t shut him down or sent him packing yet, so that had to be a good sign.

“Who’d ever believe that the ultra-cool Jason Todd is such a dork?”

“You think I’m cool?”

“I think you’re a dork.”

“I’ll take that.”

Tim grinned, and if Jason thought he was sinful before, then the genuine enjoyment of this moment made him appear nearly godlike. All it would take for him to crawl on his knees and worship him properly would be the twitch of a finger.

Lil’ Jay seconded the thought.

Jason set his tumbler down on the desk, intent on doing just that when the report on Caesar snagged his attention, reminding him why he’d called Tim here in the first place. All levity disappeared, and he frowned.

Tim picked up on the change in mood and sat up straighter. “Business before pleasure,” he murmured, more to himself than to Jason.

“Always seems to be the case.” Jason sat down heavily, glaring at the pages.

“What is it this time?”

“To be honest, I kinda want your opinion before I make a decision.”

Tim arched a brow, visible over his sunglasses. “How do you know I won’t decide in favor of my bank account?”

That was an easy one. “Because if you were in it for the money, you wouldn’t put up with my shit and ask the questions you do.”

“Fair.” Tim gestured to the report and Jason handed it over.

“Caesar is a good guy,” he said, pausing for a moment as he realized how that sounded. “Not that he helps grandmas across the street or shit like that, but he’s good at what he does. He knows his business, has his clients, and pushes what he’s supposed to.”

“But?” Tim asked, leadingly.

“But he’s ambitious. Deals where I specifically tell him not to. Thinks he’s better than everyone else because he earns more money.”

“Where?”

Trust Tim to pick up on the main sticking point. He was annoyingly perceptive like that.

“Schools,” Jason replied, voice sour as he took another swig of whiskey. “I’m a lot of things, Tim. I’m not a nice guy. But I have my own little moral code and dealing to fucking kids goes against it.”

“Why?” Tim asked, leaning back in his chair. Even with the sunglasses, his gaze felt heavy. Judging.

Jason fiddled with the tumbler, hoping the cut crystal would answer for him. No such luck there. “Because I grew up in a home where drugs fucked up everything,” he answered around memories of his mom and her tears when she couldn’t get her next fix.

“And yet, here you are selling them.”

The irony wasn’t lost on him. “Here’s the thing, Tim.” Jason gestured broadly around him. “All this, this is a sign of control. You can’t stop crime, but you can manage it. Direct it even. I can’t do shit about most of the people down there picking up a little somethin’ tonight to drown out the pain, but I can control the supply. And if that supply doesn’t make its way into the schools around there, then I also curb the demand.”

“Does the Penguin realize you do this?” Tim probed, intent. “Because you’re damn lucky you don’t work for Black Mask. He doesn’t care. At all.”

“Why do you think I work here insteada across town?” Jason snapped. “Life expectancy is a helluva lot higher too. Penguin is power hungry, but Black Mask is fuckin’ insane. That is one man I never want to work for. Well, him and the Joker.”

Damn clowns.

Tim was quiet for a minute before speaking. “You said you wanted my opinion on Caesar?”

Back to business. 

“He’s pushin’ around the middle school,” Jason replied, voice flat with suppressed anger. “He knows better, he’s been warned several times, and he keeps doin’ it.”

“But because he’s making money, Penguin doesn’t care?”

Jason scoffed. “Caesar isn’t even an ant to Ozzie. This is all on me. Do I go for the more permanent solution or what? Because my warnings sure as fuck aren’t stickin’”.

“What was his last warning?”

“Shot him in the calf.”

“He doesn’t sound very smart then.” Tim returned the report to the desk and sighed. “If you really want my opinion, I’d vote for taking him out of the picture permanently. An underling who doesn’t listen, who thinks he knows better, is dangerous. There’s a time and a place for defiance, but this isn’t it. He’s gunning for something, probably recognition. Take him out before he takes you out.”

There was something to Tim’s voice that made sure Jason was paying attention. “Speakin’ from experience?”

Tim rubbed at his collarbone, an all too human gesture that spoke volumes. “Yeah, I am.”

Looks like his decision was made. “Okay. I want Caesar dead. Make it an accident. Nothing comes back to you or me.”

Nodding, Tim rose to his feet. In a surprising motion, he reached over and snagged Jason’s tumbler and finished the whiskey in one smooth swig. The long column of his throat entranced Jason and he burned with the desire to lick it, to place even a single mark on the pale skin.

“You know,” Tim said, setting the glass down. “If it’s any consolation, I’d much rather get my work from you than anyone else.”

Jason swallowed, breaking out of his trance. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You at least think about why you want people dead. There’s a reason for it, each and every single time.”

Only an idiot would miss the other half of Tim’s unspoken words.

“What happens when you don’t agree with my reasons?”

Those icy blue eyes peered over the rim of Tim’s sunglasses once again. “Let’s hope you don’t find out.”

* * *

If there was one thing Jason prided himself on, it was his ability to steer clear of trouble. Good business was knowing when to take risks and when to keep your head in the sand. Unfortunately for him, word on the street and from up above wasn’t giving him much of a choice.

“A fucking war,” he muttered, reading over his instructions from the Penguin again. The nightclub was cannon fodder as far as he was concerned. He wanted Jason to defend the casino at all costs against Black Mask.

Made sense, that was where the money, and more importantly, the connections were at. Information was the name of the game, and Ozzie liked being the one who held all the cards. By extension, Jason did too.

But this time, he was in the dark over what the big boys were battling it out over. That one little piece of the puzzle proved elusive, and it was pissing him off.

Stress levels high, Jason indulged in a cigarette as he stood before the window, gazing down at the casino floor. It was packed, as usual. The elite of Gotham either didn’t give two fucks for their own safety or were that oblivious to what was plastered all over the news. Money didn’t buy happiness, but it apparently purchased ignorance.

Morons.

A quiet knock on the office door had Jason looking over his shoulder. He wasn’t expecting anyone.

Mike stuck his head in. “Boss, the sunglasses guy is here. Said he doesn’t have an appointment, but that he wants ta speak with ya.”

Tim? The hell?

Jason nodded curtly. “Send him in.”

A moment later, the hitman glided across the floor in his too smooth gait. “Jason,” he greeted with a nod.

“Tim.”

Rather than take his normal seat, the man came to a stop beside him at the window. “What, no cheesy pick-up line?”

“Not in the mood,” Jason returned with a shrug. “I take it you’re here because of what’s happenin’ out there?” He flicked his cigarette absently, ash falling to the floor.

Tim nodded. “Thought I’d stop in and check on you. Was in the neighborhood.”

“Aw, you do care!”

The hitman shoved him in the ribs with a surprisingly bony elbow. “Never said I didn’t.”

It was the first time that he’d ever acknowledged that he felt anything toward Jason. Those lame pickup lines must have worked some magic after all.

Still, now wasn’t the time to start planning a first date.

Jason took a drag from his cigarette and held his breath, relishing the burn before letting it out slowly. “Would you consider yourself well-connected?” he asked, changing the topic.

“I’d say so, yes,” Tim offered after a long pause. “Why?”

“What the fuck happened out there? Is this one of Blackie’s power plays, or did Ozzie piss in his Cheerios?”

“A little bit of both,” Tim replied. “I understand Batman was involved too. A weapons deal went south, and Black Mask is pitching a fit because he thinks Penguin sold him out to the capes. No honor amongst thieves or something to that effect.”

“Fuckin’ capes,” Jason snarled and turned away from the window. “You wanna drink?”

“Please. With ice.”

Pouring two fresh tumblers of whiskey and ice, Jason handed Tim his glass and took a seat at his desk. Across from him, the hitman did the same, a peculiar expression on his face.

“Somethin’ funny?”

Tim huffed a quiet laugh. “Inside joke.”

“The capes are all jokes.”

“I’ll drink to that.” 

* * *

Jason stood at attention on the wrong side of his desk, watching every move his new boss made as he paraded around his office like he owned the place. Which he technically did now.

The war was over, new boundaries and borders were drawn up, and here he was on the wrong side of the fence in what most definitely felt like enemy territory.

“You run a fine place here, boy,” Black Mask drawled, taking a sip of whiskey from Jason’s stash. “Enjoy some of the finer things in life too from the looks of it.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jason replied, trying for diffidence and praying it didn’t sound sullen.

“I’ve had my eye on you for a while,” the crime lord continued on like he hadn’t said a word. “You’re smart. Got some talent. Your own  _ moral _ code.”

Jason didn’t miss the emphasis. Shit.

“I don’t have room in my organization for morals, but I do got space for talent. For good management. So tell me, boy, are you worth it?”

Jesus fucking Christ on a goddamned crutch. “Yes, sir. I can have a smart mouth, but that’s because I believe in callin’ it like I see it. If somethin’s not workin’, fix it.”

Black Mask barked a sharp laugh and slammed his empty tumbler onto the desk. “Like I said, you’re smart. I like that. Just don’t get too smart with me and we’ll get along just fine.”

“Yes, sir.” Jason bit back his snide comment.  _ Can I pour you another, sir?  _ Might as well ask if he wanted him to bend over and take it up the ass.

“I’ll send one of my guys over to inspect the books tomorrow. Keep your nose clean, kid. Oh, and send me a bottle of this stuff. It’s good.”

Black Mask waltzed out of the office, secure in his power, while Jason barely managed to keep a lid on his temper. Fucked didn’t even begin to describe how he felt. Screwed. Betrayed. Most of all, he was  _ angry. _

He counted to twenty before throwing the empty glass at the office door that had closed behind his new boss. The crystal shattered on impact, shards scattering all over the floor.

“God _ dammit,” _ Jason breathed, sitting down heavily in his chair. He scrubbed a hand across his face and growled. Exhaustion and weariness warred with his fury, but he didn’t dare let his guard down.

Plans. He needed them, now. Not just ones to keep his own ass alive, but also his people. They’d all gotten fucked over in the aftermath. None of them deserved this shit – okay, a couple people did but that was beside the point – and he was determined to do his damnedest to keep everything afloat.

Starting with sending a bottle of his aged whiskey.

Fuck.

There was a quiet knock at the door.

“Not now, Mike,” he barked.

The door opened anyway, and Tim strode in, delicately hopping over the broken crystal like it was an everyday occurrence.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jason shoved away from his desk.

Tim didn’t say a word, raising a finger to his lips, then gestured for him to follow.

Oh, shit. This place was probably bugged now. He wasted no time in going after Tim.

In the hall, there was nobody. Not even Mike. Looked like Blackie was already making his mark.

Tim led him up to the roof, quickly ducking into the cover of a running air conditioner where he knelt in the shadows, every move smooth and graceful. Jason felt like a lumbering oaf by comparison.

“Did you mean it when you said you never wanted to work for Black Mask?” Tim started, grabbing hold of Jason’s suit jacket to drag him down beside him. Overhead, Gotham’s night sky shone a lurid yellow from the light pollution and actual pollution in the air.

Where was this coming from?

“Yeah, I did. Still do, but I’m in survival mode at the moment, so I can’t exactly do anything about it. I got people to take care of.”

Tim nodded. “What if I could offer you the chance to break free of Black Mask?”

“You have my attention.”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“There’s a lot of things in my life I don’t like, but right now, he’s at the very top of the list.”

“Request a meeting with him. Bring me with.”

Jason gaped, not sure he liked where this was going. “Are you gonna kill him?”

“What else would I do? Sit down for afternoon tea?”

“Tim – Okay, as much as I’d love for that to happen, there is no way in fucking hell I can afford what that hit would cost.” Damn was it tempting though.

“You are such an idiot.” Tim reached out and yanked on the hair at the back of Jason’s head, forcing their mouths together.

All thought vanished from Jason’s mind as Tim kissed him, capturing his lips and stealing his breath. He always knew the man had a clever tongue and damn, he was enjoying being proven right.

“Listen to me,” Tim breathed, peppering Jason’s jaw with his lips. “With Black Mask out of the way, there’ll be a power vacuum. Penguin will try and swoop in, but I’ve got a better candidate in mind. Someone who can do some actual good in this city. Someone who’s willing to  _ control _ crime, not just let it happen.”

Jason’s brain finally played catch-up and he drew away as far as Tim’s tight hold would let him. “I have spent my entire criminal career avoiding the top of the ladder. That’s where all the attention goes.”

“Who says anyone has to know it’s you?” Tim’s smile was sly as he dug into a pocket and withdrew a red mask, not unlike what the capes wore. “I know all about secret identities, Jason. Double lives.”

“Are you tryin’ to tell me you’re a cape in disguise?”

“Yes.” With the same hand that held the mask, Tim removed his sunglasses. Clear blue eyes caught Jason’s, ones that have haunted his fantasies for months.

Blue eyes that were oddly familiar now that he had a chance to really fall into them.

“You’re Tim Wayne.”

Pieces of the unknown puzzle fell into place, forming a new picture. News headlines he’d heard years ago flashed in his memory.

_ Bruce Wayne Secretly Funding Batman. Is Tim Drake-Wayne Red Robin? Are Gotham’s Elite Behind the Capes? _

There were so many to choose from.

“You could say I live a triple life,” Tim offered, glancing down at the mask. “No one in my family knows about the work I’ve done for you.”

If Jason’s nerves were frazzled before, they were on fire now. “Why are you telling me this? Why me?”

“Because you believe as I do. It took a long time for me to realize that Batman’s way wasn’t right. That sometimes, in order to deliver justice, the law has to be broken.”

“Capes don’t kill.” That was the premise as Jason understood it. “It’s how you guys can get away with so much in this town.”

Tim smiled bitterly. “If it helps, I killed long before we met.”

“Who?” Jason asked before he could stop the question from forming. “Who made you cross that line?”

“The man who killed my father. Why should he have gotten a second chance at life when Dad didn’t? When my girlfriend didn’t? Or my best friends? They were all good people. Deserving. But no.  _ He _ was chosen instead.”

Jason was pretty sure people only lived once, so he wasn’t sure what Tim was talking about. But he was a cape, and that was a whole different world of crazy from what he was used to.

“You want to kill Black Mask and set me up in his place,” he said, looping the discussion back to where it started. He wasn’t ready to deal with Tim’s revelations yet. “Because this is justice?”

Tim shook his head. “It’s doing what’s right for Gotham.  _ You _ are right for Gotham. Crime can’t be stopped but it can be controlled. That’s what you said. That’s what you  _ believe.” _

“Yeah, but I can’t do it alone.”

There. He’d said it.

“You won’t have to.” Tim rocked back on his heels. “I’ll be right there with you.”

“Jesus fuck, now I know you’re insane. The Bats will be all over us.”

“Let me worry about them. I’ve got plans in place already.”

“Is that what you do? Plan the shit outta everything?”

“How else do you think I’ve managed to maintain this balancing act for so long? Hiding what I do is second nature. I was almost eighteen when I killed  _ him. _ ” The way Tim bit out the word, it was clear he refused to ever speak the actual name of the man who murdered his dad.

Jason respected that. “Okay, Mr. Big-Brain. Since you’re the one with all the plans, why don’t you tell me exactly where I fit into them?”

Tim pressed another kiss on him. “With pleasure.”

* * *

Jason had to admit, his new office was pretty sweet. The view looking out over the city was a definite improvement from the floor of a club or a casino.

Behind him, his new assistant brought him up to speed on Black Mask’s business dealings. The man had worked for a tyrant, but his loyalty was to his numbers, the little data cruncher, not the person he reported to.

“Do you have any questions about your business with the Mexican cartels?”

“Not at the moment.” Probably not a good time to say he wanted to wipe them off the face of the planet. Tempting as that was, they were the devil he knew, and it was easier to deal with them than some upstart with an inflated sense of superiority.

“Very good, Mr. Hood. If that’s all for now…?”

Jason waved his hand, not bothering to turn around. “You’re fine, get outta here.”

The Red Hood. He wasn’t sure why Tim picked that persona for him, but he had to admit, it was effective. His costume –  _ uniform _ he could just hear Tim saying in exasperation – consisted of what looked like a modified hockey mask and a sleek domino not unlike Tim’s own. All in red, no hood in sight.

He supposed naming conventions weren’t Tim’s strong suit. His hero name was also a food-chain, after all.  _ Yuummm. _

Where was Tim, anyway? He hadn’t seen the man in over a week now, both of them busy consolidating assets and power bases now that Blackie was six feet under. Or was that a hundred considering they’d tossed his weighted body into the harbor? 

After Tim tore threw Black Mask’s security detail like a man possessed, he’d tossed a gun to Jason, who finished the job himself.

Difficult? Yeah. But Jason wasn’t one to deviate from a course of action once he made up his mind about it. Staring down Blackie over the barrel of that gun, he knew his life was about to change forever. For better or for worse, that remained to be seen.

The Bats still didn’t know what was up with the now former Red Robin, but Tim said it wasn’t unusual for him to drop off the face of the planet for a while and reappear at random. He had a new persona he was in the midst of implementing, one that was linked closely with the newly branded Red Hood. 

Ghost.

It fit rather well, or so Jason thought, but he was also biased because he’d been rather busy between Tim’s thighs when Tim decided to tell him about it. He’d been right, they felt fantastic clamped around his head.

The transition would take time, leaving Tim stretched thin. He’d already been in the midst of phasing out the more active duties of Red Robin, claiming health issues as the primary reason. It wouldn’t be long before he benched himself entirely. Done right, there would be no reason for the Bats to believe Tim was playing both sides of the fence. A risky move, but one with its own rewards since no one knew how the Bats worked better than him.

When Jason called him an antihero, Tim had looked rather thoughtful before shaking his head.    
  
_ “I’m doing what needs to be done because no one else will.” _

A little light flashed along the corner of his eye, a warning that the office door had opened. This office was quadruple the size of his last one, so knocks had to be pretty loud to hear them. 

Turning, Jason grinned from beneath his mask when he saw who’d just joined him.

It was Tim, dressed in his usual suit, but wearing a similar style mask to his own. His pale skin contrasted sharply against all the black. In Jason’s eyes, he moved like liquid silk.

“Damn, can I take a ride on your warpcore?” he quipped, removing the lower part of his mask. “I last longer than Boromir.”

“You’re mixing genres,” Tim said with a laugh, already taking off his mask as he strode across the room. “Besides, I thought we’d moved past the cheesy pickup lines?”

“You said you liked the nerdy ones.”

Tim slid into Jason’s arms, slotting their bodies together like they’d done it a million times rather than just a few frenzied moments stolen over the last month. “I do, but that doesn’t mean I need to hear them every time we’re together.”

“You sure? Because I got some good ones I found.”

“Fine.” Tim nuzzled into the hollow of Jason’s throat. “But if I don’t like them, I’ll bite.”

Jason shuddered at the heat in Tim’s words. “Promise?”

“Promise. Now talk nerdy to me.”


End file.
